


The Doomed

by Laterdegates



Category: American Horror Story, Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 20:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16126463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laterdegates/pseuds/Laterdegates
Summary: A slew of dead tenants, a mysterious blonde headed neighbor, and a dysfunctional dead family. Can Brain take on the trials of the Murder House, or will he end up like everyone else?Disclaimer:I do not own Avenged Sevenfold and American Horror Story.This is the works of FICTIONThis takes place in 2016 (The Stage Era) Way AFTER the Harmon family.PLEASE NOTE:This contains Season One spoilers of American Horror Story: Murder House.WARNINGS: (Do not read if you are uncomfortable with the following.)- Language- Substance abuse (alcohol and drug)- Themes of sex and sexual assault (There is no actual scenes that will be written but it will be mentioned because of the season)- Murder- I mean I don't think this is a warning but there will be themes of homsexuality. So I guess, if your're not into a man flirting, and kissing another man this isn't the story for you.ONCE AGAIN THERE WILL BE NO SMUT SCENES IN THIS. THIS FOLLOWS THE SEASON.Character list will be updated, but as of right now I don't feel the need to list all twenty-four ghosts that live in the Murder House.***AN O/C CHARACTER MAY OR MAY NOT BE ADDED***





	1. Introduction

"Marcy, I assume?"

The questioning tone in his voice was just enough to catch her off guard. She had been reading a romance book as a way to pass time, and she had not expected him to be this early. She glanced up at the man. His face was perfectly sculpted, and his feathery black hair made his features even more appealing. He was attractive for a man his age. She nervously took a sip of the mocha she had order previously, and motioned for him to sit down.

"Ah, Mr. Haner." She spoke, " It's nice to-um put a face together with a name."

She looked at him questioningly as she acknowledged the sunglasses he wore as well as the way he held his head. He took the seat across from her.

"Are you okay?" She asked, "Would you like something?"

"No, I'm fine." He replied with his signature smile, "Just a little hungover."

"Oh?"

There was a short break of comfortable tension as Mr. Haner assessed the woman sitting before him. She was a small, older woman. She looked rather nervous for this meeting. He didn't quite understand why.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "You seem...timid?" He threw together the best description he could. He didn't want to upset the woman.

She smiled politely before replying with a subtle nod.

"I'm just nervous about this. It's not everyday I get a phone call asking about houses after hours."

They both laughed, as she took another sip of her coffee.

"Well, It looked like a steal, and I apologize about that." He lied.

Marcy had been alive long enough to see the fake expression on his face. She could tell when a person was lying, or even hiding things. She frowned, and he could tell that she knew.

'Count on me to be terrible at lying..' He mentally cursed.

"What really brings you to Los Angeles?" She asked, sipping at her coffee.

"Well, uh..." He frowned again. "As I said before, I'm in a rock band. Avenged Sevenfold, actually."

"Go on."

"We ended our contract with our longtime record label. The company decided to sue us. So I'm currently battling a lawsuit alongside my best friends."

"But that isn't all?" She questioned.

"The life of a rockstar can really get to you. The sex, drugs, and rock n' roll isn't a sterotype. It's all true." He trailed on, " I cheated on my pregnant wife, and well, we have recently divorced. She took everything, including custody of the baby."

The expression on her face faltered as she learned of his story. It ways always the disgusting cheaters, or struggling couples who came to her for this house. History always had to repeat itself.

"This is on me though. I regret it, I truly do."

"No offense, Mr. Haner, but everyone says that. What makes you think you won't do it again?

"Good question." He chuckled, "I really don't trust myself. I'm the one who called on the divorce, and I willingly gave her everything. It isn't fair that I betrayed her, and I will never forgive myself for what I have done."

She looked at him in pure disgust speaking up once more:

"Look, Mr. Haner. I don't know if you would want this house."

"Why not?" He asked, "This house has been in the market for several years!" He exclaimed, "Besides, it's in perfect condition for a house of it's time. I'm requesting a tour as soon as possible."

"I'm afraid I can't do that Mr. Haner?"

"And why not?" He asked.

Marcy did not reply to him, nor looked at him as she gathered the little belongs she had brought with her to the coffee shop.

"Wait." Brian interrupted.

She looked at him, motioning for him to go on.

"I am willing to pay triple, and I mean triple the asking price. I need to start over somewhere new. This is the place, If you would just listen to me."

He got up from his position at the table and walked up to her, never leaving her gaze,"

"How do I even know you have that kind of money?" She asked,

"Um, hello?" He said, "Synyster Fucking Gates of Avenged Sevenfold. Google my net worth!"

She let out a sigh before murmuring an utter curse word under her breath.

"Fine, Me. Haner." She said, " Be at the housing address tomorrow no later than 11:30 a.m. If you are so much as a second late I am calling this off."

She then walked off, as she reached the door he called back:

"I'll be there. I promise I'll be there."

"I really wish you wouldn't." She murmured as she exited the coffee shop.

Mr. Haner didn't know what he was doing. It was clear to Marcy that the man had not known at this house was the infamous Murder House. The house where everyone dies. Her only hope was to convince the man not to buy the house. She would deliver him all the information, and maybe throw in a lie or two. She could perhaps gossip lies to the neighbors before he showed up. She could get the neighbors to hate him, and make him feel unwelcomed. Then he wouldn't buy the house. She didn't want that to happen though. She was sick of the house being on the market. She was sick of the pricing. If this man was gonna offer triple the price than she'll gladly let him buy it. That is all that really needed to matter at this time."


	2. One

The man had kept his word. In fact, Marcy had not expected him to arrive so early. The sleek, black BMW of the lead guitarist pulled into the driveway. She could hear the soft crooning of Lana Del Rey through the cracked windows, and not even a moment later the car shut off. To her surprise, she saw that Mr. Haner had brought a guest. She watched closely as the two shut their doors, and made their way up the pathway.

"Good morning, Mr. Haner. I didn't expect you to be so early." She trailed on, "I didn't expect a guest either.''

She eyed the man once before holding her hand out to shake. He took it in his hand and smiled softly. He seemed different from Mr. Haner. The man had not bothered to wear the leather jacket he had worn previously. She could now see his exposed tattooed arms, and that is where the two looked different. The man Mr. Haner had brought stood tall, and lanky. His arms were bare and naked compared to the interested buyer's arms. His hair was a little under the tone of blonde, and he seemed a little older. She inferred he was more mature in many ways that Mr. Haner wasn't.

"My name is Brooks Wackerman, but please, call me Brooks."

"He's the drummer of the band, and I brought him over with me today to help me make decisions." Mr. Haner said, giving the two a smile.

She pulled out her keys, and unlocked the door. She pushed it open, motioning for the two to go in. She walked behind them and closed the door. the two men stepped inside gazing around in awe. Marcy already knew she had them hooked.

"It looks even better than the photos that were posted online." Brooks commented.

"Welcome. It's a classic L.A Victorian. It was built around the year of 1920 by a doctor to the stars at the time. It's just fabulous, and this is the just the foyer. You can just imagine what the rest of the house will look like."

"Are these real Tiffany fixtures?" Brooks pointed out at the lights.

"I was actually just about to get to that." She replied, "They're real fixtures. Former homeowners restored everything when they bought it."

"Were they gay?" Brooks joked.

"Good question. Now, you tell me." She laughed. "Follow me."

Marcy was a confident woman. That was part of the reason she became such a successful realtor. She could sway anyone into buying a home. Well, except for this one. She wondered if Mr. Haner would want the house after mentioning the house's past. She couldn't hide anything from him. Not if she wanted to risk her job, and she really didn't want to lose her job. She lead the men into another room. It looked like an office, and it immediately caught their attention. It was a huge room, almost big enough to convert into a music room for all of Brian's guitars, and other instruments. It seemed as Marcy had read his mind.

"This is the study, but I figured I should go ahead and show it to you. Since you're a musician, and all."

"It's beautiful." Mr. Haner remarked, "The perfect room for jam sessions right, Brooks?"

"Oh yeah definitely." He answered as he glanced around the room. He looked at every detail carefully before asking another question. "This wallpaper...is it covering something? It's peeling."

"The homeowners who remodeled the house used it to cover the original murals, or so I believe. They were more of modernists, and the other homeowner just kinda left it how it was."

"If I buy this I'm getting rid of the wallpaper." Mr. Haner said. "Like I hate to break it to you but why would they cover such a thing up? It's classic, and I bet no other house on the street has such the art."

"I do apologize for the topic change, Mr Haner, but since we were discussing the homeowners I cannot forget to tell you the full disclosure requirements. I have to tell you the history of the house."

"Oh boy, here we go." Brooks nervously laughed.

Marcy glared at him before averting her gaze to the other man. "The homeowners who pulled this house out of the dump, and remodeled it died."

"No way." Brian replied with a shake of his head.

"I'm afraid so." She replied. "It was a murder-suicide. I sold the house to them, and I must say they were one of the most sweetest couple i've met. You never know, I guess."

"Is that why this house is so cheap? One murder-suicide?" Brooks asked.

"Oh heavens no." She replied, as she took a seat on the couch that was sat in the center of the study. "The family that moved in after they did died too. The mother died in childbirth, the father couldn't bear it and stung himself up. He hung himself on the foyer stairway. They don't know what happened to the daughter, or the baby. Authorities think she ran off with the baby."

"Okay, wow." Brooks shook his head.

"Well, I don't know what to think." Mr. Haner said.

"Mr. Haner, If you'd like to see the mid-century home outside of town I can set up a tour for it, possibly this coming up Friday. But, you'll be farther away from the studio, and its smaller. You'll be paying twice the price of what you're offering for this house alone."

"Can me and Brian look around at the rooms? I would like to discuss some things."

"Go ahead, and take your time." She waved the along. "If you do decide to buy the place, I'll go get the paperwork and have it ready."

Both Brooks and Brian left the study in a fast pace, and made their way past the kitchen and dining room areas.

"I'm not feeling the modern mixed with classic mumbo jumbo." Brian exclaimed with a sigh.

"Dude, is that all you're worried about?" Brooks asked as the two made their way through every room.

Brian didn't answer him for the longest of time. The man didn't know what to think of the house. Sure it was beautiful, and the deal of a lifetime, but was it really worth it? He didn't necessarily like the idea of living in a home what revolved around death. The last thing he wanted to know in all honesty was a murder-suicide had happened right in this house. The other death didn't bother him as much. But, an act of murder? Something wasn't quite right about this. The house itself felt like a weight on his shoulders. He felt it as soon as he stepped inside. The two made it into the master bedroom where Brian took a seat by the window. He didn't look at Brooks as he shook his head.

"I fucked up, didn't I?" He asked.

"Brian, I'm not gonna justify what you did." Brooks mumbled, "But, I'm not gonna shut you down and hate you because you've made a mistake. We are human, and we have no control over the things we do. I can see the regret in your eyes. You miss her?"

"I do."

"Things will be alright. I promise." He spoke, giving the younger man a kind hearted smile.

"So should I get this place?" He asked, "I mean, It's fairly close to the studio, and there is enough rooms for the guys to crash here if they wanted."

"The house has potential, I'll admit that. ...I think you should take up on this offer. The house has been on the market forever now. I'm sure the poor woman is sick of it."

The two walked back downstair, and past the study. Marcy had moved herself to the living room, where she held her purse and folders containing all the information she had on the house. She looked at them, and smiled when she saw the two smiling back.

"I'll take it."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this is kinda shitty. I wasn't expecting this chapter to be so short. But it is, unfortunately. Chapter One will be longer, I promise. Feel free to leave feedback if you'd like. I personally feel this isn't the best. I haven't written anything in a long long time. Also excuse errors. I'm working on finding an editor to help me out because im bad about that. Chapter One will be out soon! - Laterdegates


End file.
